


Sometimes We Teach

by colonxt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, High School Teacher AU, M/M, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, defiling the good name of sigmund freud, google translate is both a vice and a virtue, this must be cause for celebration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonxt/pseuds/colonxt
Summary: If it seems like teachers at Shield High never teach, it's because they're always throwing things at each other, doing conspiratorial teacher things, and maybe, possibly, by some stretch of chance, falling in love.





	Sometimes We Teach

**Author's Note:**

> as if there weren't enough high school aus. sam + bucky's friendship is based off of teachers at my own school, one of which locked the other's iPad for an hour.

Bucky’s currently embroiled in one of the most deeply emotional and cerebral battles he’s ever experienced. Natasha is teaching Russian to a few seniors. It’s no more than ten kids, but she’s passionate, they’re passionate, and seeing as not a single word of English has been uttered since the bell rung, Bucky’s sure that if he distracts the class he’ll be blasted in a language he knows about three words in.

So he stays silent out of necessity. He glares silently from his desk (His _fortified_ desk he might add, complete with a camouflaged netting similar to a ghillie suit.) at the shaking form of Sam, who is holding up an iPad, _his_ iPad, triumphant that’d he’d wasted most of the period disabling it. Bucky glares harder, and Sam shakes it around before mouthing the words ‘One Hour’.

“You rat bastard,” Bucky says it quietly, nearly whispering, but his words were caught in a lull and all the students turned, snickering. Sam put down the tablet, leaving Bucky half out of his seat, and in the crosshairs of Natasha’s glare.

“Извините.” She says. All he can offer is a weak smile.

“Îmi pare rău, știi că te iubesc…” He offers, and the students between the two of them are breaking their necks looking from one teacher to the other. Sam’s shoulders are shaking and his head taps on the desk every time a new wave of laughter hits him.

“Я убью его позже.” Natasha turns back to her seniors, who all start speaking in Russian at her. Bucky falls back into his seat, where Sam is propping up the iPad so that Bucky can clearly see the countdown until his iPad is unlocked.

Bucky whips his laptop out and starts to slap out a message to Sam before realizing the noise he’s making and begins to type quietly, in hopes that he won’t have to resort to Romanian to get himself out of being killed. Sam whips out his laptop as Bucky sends his message, receiving it just as he logs into his business Skype.

 

> Sam Wilson: YO
> 
> Sam Wilson: OOF
> 
> James Barnes: shut the fck up yre th worst roommate

Sam looks up and winks. Bucky scowls up at him.

> James Barnes: WORST
> 
> Sam Wilson: Whatd she say
> 
> James Barnes: I Am Not Telling You
> 
> Sam Wilson: youre really dramatic I bet theyre talking shit

They both look up at each other over their laptops. The initial din from Bucky’s outburst died down but whatever conversation was happening was not explicitly teaching. There were laughs from the students and short chuckles from Natasha, and one of the guys in the class was laying across two desks, telling what sounded like a story.

 

> James Barnes: no
> 
> Sam Wilson: do you even speak Russian
> 
> James Barnes: basically none except swears
> 
> James Barnes: hes definitely swearing
> 
> Sam Wilson: 50:43
> 
> James Barnes: what
> 
> James Barnes: youre the worst

The bell rings just then, and Natasha waves the kids away with a good-natured sigh. The storyteller hops off and darts out of the classroom with a short wave and what Bucky could only assume to be a Russian goodbye. The rest of the kids start filing out, holding their own conversations. Bucky reached down, pretending to fiddle with one of the busts he kept on his desk, as Sam closed his laptop and got ready for his next class. Bucky had Military History coming in next, which was all seniors and usually started ten minutes late anyway. He whipped a pen at Sam’s cabinet, right next to his head.

“Wha- dude. I’m keeping your pen because you need to work on your anger issues. Get a therapist.”

“Psych isn’t even real science. Freud wasn’t shit.”

Sam gasped dramatically, a hand flying to his heart. Somehow both men had forgotten about Natasha’s presence until she spoke. “He didn’t do any science.” She stated, a shrug in her tone as she headed for the door. Bucky grinned triumphantly. “She agrees! Two versus one!”

“I’m not part of this.” She chimed amusedly as she walked out the door.

“You smite me.” Sam resigned, picking up his laptop.

“Xbox later, or no?” Bucky asked, shifting around for his smart board pen.

“Only if you get a therapist,” Sam said, half out the door.

Bucky said nothing but leaned back in his chair, satisfied but thumb-twiddlingly bored. He glanced briefly at his laptop, Sam and his conversation still up on the screen with his other ongoing conversations off to the side. He clicked into Natasha’s thinking he might bother her with a stupid joke. Their past conversations read as Bucky telling her jokes or asking her stuff and most of her responses being either links to the school website, pictures of his schedule, her schedule, or nothing at all. He sent the beginning of a knock-knock joke he’d never get the chance to finish and clicked out with a sense of unrepentant pride.

The door opened as he was considering today’s punishment for the consistent lateness with tented fingers, chuckling between himself and his laptop. Last week he’d changed class to US History 1 for a whole period, which is what the kids took in ninth grade. All he played was Hamilton. He was considering the pros and cons of Geography, which is what they took in their first year of middle school.

“Wow. First one here? Congrats. Only-“ Bucky dragged the ‘only’ out as he looked at his watch dramatically, “Seven minutes late. I applaud your mediocrity.” Bucky chooses then to look up, and he has a second of confusion. This is no student of Bucky’s, or anyone’s for that matter. The entirety of the high school passed by his room at some point during the day so he had a general idea of who was and who wasn’t a student. First of all, he was big. Arguably bigger than Bucky, who was known for threatening to bench press students and coworkers.

“Damn. Hey, sorry.” Bucky says, hoping to hell his first impression wasn’t asshole teacher.

“Nice speech. Very threatening. Worked for me. I’m just wondering if you can get me into the room across the way…? Apparently, I have a class there and they’re all in the hallway and also shouting-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Bucky zips his half-zip sweater closed and walks out of the classroom and with his hands shoved into his pockets he shoulders his way to the front of the gaggle of kids, and unlocks the door.

“Enter, and be quiet for the sub, or else I’ll find some hard manual labor for you to do.” Bucky very nearly shouts over the din of kids who don’t have any hard guidelines for a period. The sub is standing outside the gaggle of kids, and Bucky turns to him.

“I’ll keep my door open.”

“Thank you. What’s your name? I might need it.” The sub says. He sounds a bit worried, like the kids might inhale him. Upon closer inspection, Bucky would too. He might be big but despite looking like he could be captain of the wrestling team, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly with his whole ‘Golden Boy’ aesthetic.

“Mr. Barnes. And hey, they’re just sophomores. If they get obnoxious, tell them stories about when you were a stupid kid. They like relating to things.”

The sub mouths ‘Thank you so much’ and walks into the buzzing classroom. Bucky retreats across the hall, propping his door open. His whole class sits, expectantly.

“Late, Mr. Barnes.” They chorus, followed by the din of seventeen tsk-ing seniors.

“No rest for the weary.” He says under his breath, before setting up the smartboard.

**Author's Note:**

> Извините - excuse me  
> Îmi pare rău, știi că te iubesc - sorry, you know i love you  
> Я убью его позже - i'll kill him later


End file.
